


Jaded

by FTWLikeABoss



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Mentioned Past Lives, Post-Canon Banana Fish, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29322075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FTWLikeABoss/pseuds/FTWLikeABoss
Summary: Ash has lingering feelings of something of the past - lost history that he doesn't quite understand - a foggy memory? He's not sure, but the thought only burns something deep in his soul. It concerns him greatly.Whatever it is; he wants nothing to do with it.(I suck at summaries. I hope I got the gist of it across.)
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Jaded

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a year ago for my friends after watching Banana Fish together. The anguish was real and I just wanted to give them something to cheer them up. Nothing too big or long.
> 
> Like a lollipop after a checkup.

Jade green eyes slowly begin to open, pupils unfocused and dazed. A groan escapes peach colored lips as arms begin stretching themselves across the table they had been folded atop. Blonde hair cascades over those eyes, curtaining their blurred vision from the intruding light.

“What…what?” Mumbled whispered echo throughout the still room – the only other sound being from the rhythmic taps against the windowpane. “…rain?”

Green eyes blink once – twice – three times. Shoulders shrug and shift as they try to shake off the sleep that seemed to have lasted an eternity. The hair shifts once more, allowing newly seeing eyes to witness the room. Multiple shelves stacked with different books of multiple genres – fiction and non alike. It seemed to be a small library of sorts. For some reason, the thought struck a peaceful cord within this person. His heart beating to the serenity of the calm atmosphere.

He pulls himself up, looking down at the wooden desk he had slept on. A paper sat there – a letter of sorts. He picks it up – reading over the context before his eyes widen and he’s racing out of the room.

He doesn’t stop to grab anything, sprinting out into the rain without so much as a jacket to pull over his head. (It was weird though; he could have sworn he had one on before he went to bed.) His white t-shirt looks grey as the rainwater soaks into it – pressing it against his skin to the point it was see through. A deep pink jagged birthmark on his abdomen stuck out like a sore thumb on his peach like skin. His jeans felt heavy and his red shoes bathed in the water and mud. But he didn’t care, he just kept running – not bothering to stop until he got there.

* * *

He stood outside the airport – security not allowing him in to track in muddy puddles. His hands stuck in his pockets, head down and eyes burning. Whether it was from anger or unshed tears, maybe rainwater got in his eyes in his mad dash – maybe it was everything. His fist clenched and unclenched – he took deep breaths to calm himself. It wasn’t their fault – he should have known better than to run out into the rain like this. He marched himself over to a nearby bench and began trying to clean his shoes. Maybe they’d at least let him inside if he did so.

He scratched and scraped at the caked-up dirt; it managed to get under his perfectly kept nails. He didn’t care about that – he could always watch his hands of dirt. Suddenly, a flash of red washed over his hands and his heat stopped. He blinked and it was gone. His breathing became haggard, and his eyes widened. He stared down at them for so long, his mind racing a mile a minute.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to clean them that way.” His breath is caught in his throat; he hadn’t noticed the figure that had approached him. Though as he looked up, and those dark brown eyes stared down at him, he was onto his feet in seconds. “Whoa, someone's jumpy–”

He’s cut off as he’s brought into a tight embrace. The front of his clothes getting wet from the contact – a chill running up his spine, but not because of the cold.

“Did you really leave the house without an umbrella?” A soft hand finds itself atop his head, stroking it softly as if to calm him down. “Did you miss me that much? I was only gone for–”

“I can’t do this.”

“Huh?” The confusion in his voice tugs at the blondes heart. “You can’t what?”

“I can’t…” Tears begin to fall; tears he’d been holding in for how long – he wasn’t sure. He just knew he couldn’t hold them in anymore. He couldn’t hide it anymore. “I can’t stand it.”

The hand on his head stops, but it doesn’t move from his head. Only shifting to the back and pulling him closer; allowing his head to lay on his shoulder – allowing him to cry without restraint. He may not have known what had brought upon these feelings, but he’d be there to listen. And if he didn’t want to talk, that would be fine too, he’d just hold him close like this.

* * *

The two sat together, mugs filled with jasmine tea. The downpour had ramped up to a bigger storm. The wind had picked up and the light had gone out. They sat in front of a fire, bundled together under a blanket and a certain blond in a new pair of clothes.

“How was your trip?”

Brown eyes widened at the sudden break in silence, before settling into a soft gaze; he knew the other was walking on pins and needles – he wanted to lead up to what was on his mind, and he didn’t mind going along with it.

“It was amazing.” A shine finds itself in his iris when thinking about the trip to America. “You were right about the countryside. It was beautiful.”

“The countryside here is just as beautiful.”

A chuckle rang from the brunette as he pulled the mug away from his lips. “It is; but there’s something about it from a whole new place that gives it a certain charm.” He glances up at his partner. “Is that how you feel about Japan?”

“I guess.” He brings the mug to his lips, looking the other way to hide the pout he was most likely sporting. The other laughing at his expense – but all in good fun.

“So, how was it back here?” He brings the mug up to take another sip. “Did I miss any–?”

“Quit.”

After some initial sputtering and hacking the brunette turned to blond in confusion. “A–”

“Please.” His answer comes out fast and sharp, barely allowing the other to spit out a syllable. He retracts his misplaced hostility, glaring at his hands. “Or at least take a more domestic approach to it.”

“What’s wrong? You never had a problem with me traveling for work before? Did something happen?”

“I…”

He pauses, tearing eyes away from those warm pools – the light of the fire making his eyes look like melted chocolate. He gripped his mug in his hands, his grip shaking as his hair blocked his face from view. He didn’t know how to explain this feeling – or why he was having it. He knew it was selfish to demand something like this – what kind of partner would he be to force the one he loves out of a job because he feels uneasy.

Sometimes, he thinks to himself that he doesn’t deserve– warm hands find themselves cradling his own. He locks gazes with those eyes he loves so much, and he can’t hold back anymore.

“ _I don’t want you to leave me._ ” His words barely come out as a whisper, but he forces himself to go on. “I keep having this terrible feeling that something is going to take you away from me. I don’t know why, or how or when – or IF but…ever since you told me you were going to the States I… I felt like this with Iraq as well but something about America…”

“Well, yes, those countries are both dangerous in their own rights, but so is every country.”

“Not here; you’re safe here.” He argues back, trying to find some justification in his fears.

“Crime happens everywhere–”

“But it's different here!” He snaps, tossing the tea to the side – not even caring that it’s a mess he’ll have to clean up later. He was too hysterical to think about anything but what was happening in front of him as he gripped the brunette’s shoulders; the cloth of the pink and purple sweater he had bought bundling between his fingers. “I can protect you here!”

“Protect me from what?” His hands find themselves against the other’s once more – not letting his comfort not be felt. “What are you talking about?”

Green eyes widen in shock when he can’t find an answer.

“What happened?”

His hands begin to shake again.

“Aslan…” Those brown eyes narrow in determination, he leans forward their bangs almost intertwining in the close proximity. “Talk to me.”

The shaking stops and his hands slacken; they slid down his arms, and his forearms have hands slid down them. They rest their arms in each other’s holds and stay there.

The light turns on – it seems as though the storm had already passed; guess there wasn’t any damage done. But it doesn’t affect either of the men – they still sit on that soft red wine rug, the roars of the burning flame dancing behind them. They’re only in the moment with each other – no outside forces matter right now.

“Why don’t you come with me next time?”

“I can’t…something about that place– something’s telling me to stay away.” He places a hand over his stomach where his birthmark resides. “It burns at the thought.”

* * *

“I quit.”

Aslan almost chokes on his morning coffee; green eyes widen in shock as the other calmly read his newspaper. “You what?”

“Well, not quit but– I took up a more “domestic” position.” He allows himself a glance at those green eyes burning with so many questions. “I’ve seen enough of the world to last me a lifetime; there’s no harm in staying home.”

“When?”

“Last night– when you were peeking on me in the study.”

“I thought you were writing your report.”

“I was.” He folds the paper and slides it over – knowing how impatient the other one was at his slow reading. “Might as well finish what I started first, right?”

“…you didn’t have to.”

“I know.” A subtle smile finds itself on his face – it’s serene, without regret. “I wanted to.”

He slides his hand across the table; their hands meet each other and intertwine without a second thought. Holding onto each other, it was something they always did no matter where they were; from home, to the library, to a walk in the open fields – even if it was something as small as holding hands. From the moment they met, back in America – they hadn’t been able to stay away from one another.

“I miss you too – and…I thought about what you said last night.”

“Shit, I’m–”

“Don’t apologize– that’s my job, remember.” The laugh is soft, and it brings a wave of comfort with it. “I thought about what you said and…I realized I’d felt something like that too.”

His free hand finds itself at his diaphragm, a burning feeling talking over him when he thinks about those unanswered feelings.

“Something about that place…I felt it too.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t understand it– I thought it was nerves…” He shrugged, bringing his other hand forward – which was immediately held. “I’ve never been to America without you. It was a different experience – a nice one but, I couldn’t get this nagging feeling off my chest whenever I’d see anything relating to anything but the countryside.”

“What do you think it means?”

“I wasn’t sure then, but I did some research and I think I know what it could be.” His right hand is released so he can grab his phone. He slides it across; it’s caught with no effort.

He reads the text, completely in his own world as he takes in this information. When he’s done, he glances up in curiosity.

“Past lives?”

“I know it sounds crazy–”

“No…” He stops him, squeezing his hand to show he wasn’t bullshitting. “I believe you.”

He reads the news articles and related news – even a true crime case from twenty years ago.

“Banana Fish…”

“What do you think happened?”

Aslan stared down at the photo of the boy who looked exactly like he did; the same jade green eyes, the same blonde hair, the same name – the only difference being that his family name wasn’t Callenreese. It was weird…this all happened in 1986. Was he really reborn 14 years later? But why? What purpose did it serve? And the way he died–

His abdomen burns even hotter this time, and he drops the phone.

“Ash–!”

“Whatever it was– I think it’s better for us to stay away from it.” He pants but glances up with a cocky smirk. “We don’t want history repeating itself.”

The look he gets for that joke he knows he deserved, but he can’t help but smile. Even through the nitty-gritty. Even through the loss and pain. Even as he traveled those 14 years in hell for his crimes – for his sinful acts – he was given a second chance. A better life. A peaceful life. He finally got to experience true happiness.

“I should have told you sooner.”

“You aren’t the only one to blame here.” He responds, dragging his finger over the silver band. “Eiji.”

“Hm?” He hums, enjoying the feeling of his partner massaging his hand; it gave him a warm feeling that almost made him giggle in giddiness.

“Stay by my side.”

Something flashed over Eiji’s eyes; a deep-rooted recognition. It brought tears to his eyes, one’s that his partner wiped away with a simple butterfly kiss.

“Forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> I still believe Ash survived in the end (anime only; manga Ash is dead no question). My friends tell me I'm in denial, but if dead why so much proof?
> 
> Just saying.


End file.
